His trapezoid toenails. The bush of hair just behind them. I focused on those as the rest of everything happened. Nothing else mattered as much as my incessant desire. To pluck each one of those strands of hair, from his toe knuckles. And see him swell up in pain. I so knew lust.
A rusty nameplate hung from a grille where a creeper of moneyplant flourished someday. Both the names on that plate, no more. Grown children fluttering around in the funereal home. Impending grandchildren. I so knew the unseemly futility of life.
Sitting on a mountain top. Staring into a deep deep valley. Wearing a crazy hat. Sombrero. Watching a shamless sun shedding itself on the canopy below, uncovering a dozen shades of green. Cold wind hitting my face, I understood life's unconquerable ability to make us forget. Move on. I so knew that liberty could be. And is.
Trying to decipher illegible writing, my very own, from cheap ruled notebooks. On penulitmate exam nights. Mouths raw from insomnia, as I fell off from the edge of my bed, I realised. Whatever we do, we get nowhere else. Except where we are here, now. I so knew truth.